


I'm drowning in the 50,000 leagues beside us

by katabasiss



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 06:22:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18585574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katabasiss/pseuds/katabasiss
Summary: Depending on where you began the story, it wasn’t about people, nor places - but rather the inexplicable journey and joining of a rather rag-tag group of individuals. Blue had always felt pressed by this and that, and the who’s and what’s, so what was a girl to do?Become a pirate captain, naturally.When Captain Blue of the Henrietta and her crew made shore, Gansey took one look at the cowering locals and intimidating ship and ran - ran for the ship and became a stowaway that is. So no. Depending on where you began the story, it was about a journey. The journey of a pirate captain; her turbulent first mate, world-weary bosun, a stowaway and the knight paid to chase after them all. Oh, and of the course the ghost of the previous bosun who they couldn’t quite figure out how to get rid of.





	1. Chapter I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the Raven Cycle Big Bang event, in which, I was lucky enough to work with two amazing beta readers (Yessie via @Yesterdarling.tumblr.com / Ruby via @cactusbaseball.tumblr.com) and a stunning artist (Dee via @deethedraws.tumblr.com) ! Please go check them out, they're super kind and massive big shout out as well to all those who arranged this event !!
> 
> If anyone got this far, this was my first major fanfic, so please tell me what you thought either in the comments or through screaming at me on tumblr (katabasiss.tumblr.com). Have a lit day and a save St Mark's Eve!

When Adam made the conscious choice to reflect upon his life, he was struck by the absurdity of it all. He assumed it was safe to say that, a mere two years ago, he wouldn’t have anticipated being in the situation he was in now - gun in his hand, feet on a swaying deck, blood running down his crown and most importantly, on a pirate ship doing god knows what with god knows who. No, Adam rescinded that statement. He arguably did, in fact, know who the fuck he was involved with and even to a certain extent could it be argued that he knew where he was. However, Adam did find that no matter the time or day, he in fact had no clue what the fuck he was doing ever. Case in point. 

Survival, Adam had learnt, was merely that point in your life where you made everything up as you went and hoped to God no one had a list of your incompetencies alongside them.

He was sure there was a plan at one point, but as a gleam of silver abruptly cut off his train of thought with one swooping arc particularly close to his head, he had to admit that whatever plan their captain Blue had concocted, had completely left him in sheer panic and desperation. 

A bullet lodged itself in the mast near his face and he felt more than heard the clang of metal that occurred when the sword held in his other hand reacted to the oncoming assault of a bearded, bloody man in front of him. 

Adam Parrish was not a man to let other things control him, much preferring to safely take the reins of his own body and decisions than to be a simple passenger along for the ride - but over time, an instinct that had been previously repressed by a different assault had come to light. A rather handy instinct - particularly right now, if he were to say so. 

As the bearded man made for another lunge with a grunt, Adam stumbled back - his heels retreating until they hit the helm which he jumped upon as the swing of a rusted sword was aimed at his ankles. Adam was absurdly reminded of the old skipping games kids would play in the village - who could jump the highest to avoid the rope sweeping under their feet. If only that smarmy dick Tom, aged 10, who laughed when Adam was felled with one swoop at the tender age of six, could see him now. There was a certain satisfaction that came with knowing you were better than you once were. 

Adam turned his attention to his left - the man from before, now caught in the heavy traffic of people and silver amongst the deck. Five paces ahead stood Blue - captain of the Henrietta, a bloodied sword in one hand, the splintered wheel in the other and the sun golden on her skin as a smirk settled on her lips. With two large spins of the wheel portside, Adam felt the ship turn - its bowsprit head on to the burning ship in front, as with a chance gust of wind, the Henrettia rammed aggressively into the stern of it. 

How fucking rude, Adam thought with a smirk of his own. 

When Adam first joined the Henrietta, he was naught but a stowaway - aggressively presented before Blue by the first mate Ronan, hands tied, nose bloodied and knees roughly bent. He should have been afraid, Adam recalled thinking, but as he looked in her eyes, all Adam could think of was how thankful he was that she wasn’t his father. At some point in the course of the following two years, he must have made his mark - he had become a relatively close friend to Blue and a much closer confident. 

And a much needed one apparently, judging by her acts of reckless abandon. Ronan, her first mate, merely prompted them all - more often than not wiping a fake tear at the tales spoken over a candle light at the new heart attack she had triggered out of Adam. 

As the Henrietta made her move, a crack and a shiver ran down the body of the ship at the sheer force of the collision. Perhaps disturbingly, amidst the worry Adam had for the state of the ship, the primary emotion that ran through him, he found, was one of unbridled joy. There was something intensely satisfying Adam thought, at seeing the cause and effect of your actions – of being able to see the unravelling of captains and holding enough power in your hand to level what was once revered and built up by man. 

“I fucking hate that witch,” came a voice from behind Adam as he released his hold on the splintered banner. The voice was a deep one, a slight Irish tilt to it that starkly reminded Adam of the feeling evoked when encountering a waterfall in one’s path. Energising, adrenaline-provoking and wholeheartedly all-encompassing with a dangerous edge that threatened to drown you. 

A voice that undoubtedly belonged to one Ronan Lynch. 

Adam found his lips twitching unprompted at the statement, before muffling it down in favour of his perpetual frown. Ronan had always been all bark no bite. A prickly man, for sure, with rage and spite running through his veins just as much as the Irish blood you could make out on his tongue. And yet, Adam had roles to fulfil – to allow someone, even the first mate, to make remarks upon Blue... Well that could stir a munity thought Adam. 

“Don’t be fucking rude. That’s our captain”

“You wouldn’t be my first mate if you truly hated me,” Blue responded for herself - having had made her way towards them in favour of engaging battle rather than her prior role at the stern. Her shoulder as bloodied as the deck below, but her grin still notably carved in place. 

“What makes you think I don’t plan to kill you in your sleep - I’ve just been biding my time to win over the crew.” 

Blue released a laugh – it was manic, it was loud and it was, with her next words, victorious in tone. “Rig the masts! Back the sails, boys! She’s ours!” 

To say it had been an easy battle would have been a lie. Yes, they stood victorious - their crimson flag still standing. And yes, they retrieved the bounty they originally set out for. But they did that for morale, and morale Adam thought, didn’t go very far when half the crew was dead. Blue wasn’t dumb - half the reason why Adam had stowed away on the Henrietta in the first place was that she was renowned for her cunning nature, but nonetheless, out of himself, Blue and Ronan - Adam thought it went without saying that he was the one to interact with the crew the most. Well, save Noah, but Noah was dead; Adam wasn’t entirely sure if he counted. 

“Wouldn’t a mutiny be exciting?” Said Noah, floating beside him. “I like Blue - she’s lovely, but it gets a bit same old around here after 50 years. I think we could do with a good old mutiny. Why last time there was one I swear -“

No, Adam confirmed, Noah’s view on the matter certainly didn’t count in this instance. 

Over the last few years that Blue had been in command of the ship, Noah had been an invaluable ally at the best of times. He’d been the previous bosun of the old captain - shot in the head about 50 years back. Truth be told, the only reason his ghost still lingered around the ship was that no one was entirely sure on how to get rid of him. Plus, rumours of their haunted ship did have the added bonus of warding off many a foe. 

“No, Noah,” interrupted Adam from Noah’s continuing spiel, “we don’t want a mutiny” 

“Coward.” 

Adam didn’t really know how to respond to that, choosing to glare rather than verbally reply. He could hear the hustle of the deck above and had to briefly hold himself steady against the wall of the dimly lit corridor as the ship rocked with the waves. 

“Fine” whined Noah, “if you want to avoid that then you got to find a way to appease Jones, Dunson and Themas.” 

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I’m sorry, which one of us is dead?” A second later Adam hissed at his own words, watching as Noah’s face- or what could pass for as a face with half his skull blown out - fell. He stopped walking as Noah avoided eye contact and slowly disappeared from beside him. 

“Noah!” Pleaded Adam, “Noah I’m sorry!” 

He showed no sign of apparition. Fuck, thought Adam. But there wasn’t much he could do now. 

As he continued on his way to Blue’s quarters he repeated in his head how he would phrase the words - he wasn’t entirely sure: ‘Hey Blue, I think a mutiny is coming, any thoughts?’, would cut it. But, Adam found that as he opened the door and stepped into the room, he had little else to say. Turns out however, he need not to have worried. There was Noah, throwing papers about and for all intents and purposes looking very put out as he went to pick up a paperweight which passed seamlessly through his palm. 

“What the fuck Noah?” Screamed Ronan from where he crouched - a cut ran across his cheek, presumably gained from the book that rested near his feet. 

“I’m sorry I was mean to you,” Adam huffed to Noah as he closed the door behind him, “I didn’t mean to be - it just happened” 

“What did you do?” Said Blue this time - admittedly absent-minded - as she attempted to reclaim her desk from Noah’s reign of terror. Her hair notably less messy from style and more the roaring wind that made its way around the cabin. 

“Adam thinks a mutiny is upon us,” Noah threw the paperweight at the door, more successfully this time. 

“Wait what?” Truth be told, Adam wasn’t entirely sure who posed the question: Ronan with his indignation or Blue with her sheer confusion. Either way, Adam felt the papers and loose objects flinging around the room held a certain personification to them that in that moment Adam could match. 

“Look, we lost a lot of men is all. Just make shore, find some new men, let the crew do their own thing for a bit and it’ll all be fine.” 

“Those ungrateful fucks!” Ronan growled in indignation, “We just gave them thousands!” 

“Well no -“ Adam wove around a precariously wobbling bookshelf to safer ground, “- what with the amount of repairs we’ve had to do on the ship, the men actually didn’t get a whole lot.” 

“Look, it’s fine”, reasoned Blue, “We’ll make shore at the closest port; be in and out.”

Looking back on the following events, Adam supposed that was the moment everything changed. The decision to make port in Glendower was the pivotal point of the next few months and Adam still wasn’t sure if it was a good one. To any observer, it soon became clear that Glendower was everything the crew of the Henrietta was not. It was clean, orderly, and it appeared as if the walls themselves were made of gold and trust. Understandably, they were all somewhat at a loss for how they would recruit anyone fulfilling of the standards they held. The bloodthirsty and god-fearing type appeared short in stock. So when, after several hours of searching and having retreated back to Blue’s office to drown their sorrows in cheap, stolen whiskey, it was naturally a bit of a surprise to find someone already there. 

Rocking in the chair as if it were their own. 

The stranger was just as golden as the town they resided in. His hair lustrous in capacity, with features meeting the requirements of Adonis himself. To Adam it appeared as if the man was untouchable - a god among men. That was of course, until he opened his mouth. 

“Hello”, spoke the man - his voice smooth and easy, the type of voice one looked for when they wished to command armies and the attention of many, “I hear you’re the place to look towards for an adventure”

It likely would have been notably more impressive had immediately after, Blue hadn’t knocked him unconscious with one fell and swift punch accompanied with a scream. 

As Adam lent near a post towards the back of Blue’s office, he noted how the strange man’s leg bounced up and down and up and down within its rope confinements. A nervous tick, Adam noted upon first glance. Yet as he spent an increasing amount of time within the man’s company thanks to the ongoing interrogation, the more Adam picked up on the fact that it wasn’t nerves which drove him. It was excitement. 

“Look. Can we please all just put down our guns? You don’t want to kill me, and I’ll tell you why,” soothed the man. Adam wasn’t entirely sure how he had managed it but there was something within the capacity of the man's voice that compelled even Ronan-I-don’t-take-shit-from-anyone-Lynch to hesitantly lower his gun. 

“Yeah?” prompted Ronan gruffly. From where Adam stood, he couldn’t quite see what it was the man was doing, but he watched skeptically as he appeared to reach within his jacket - naturally of which was seemingly hemmed with gold along the edges, until he pulled out with notable triumph, a cracked and folded document. 

“Right here, I hold the key to make you the rulers of the free world”

This time it was Blue’s turn to scoff and frown skeptically, “And what’s that?” she questioned - her foot lifted to rest upon the desk and slowly with the same grin she had plastered on her face at their prior battle, she lent towards him - her hands outstretched for the paper until the man pulled it back abruptly. 

“I want a promise first. The promise for adventure - the promise to take me with you.”

“Depends what you got,” Blue shrugged.

“How about 50,000 Lyvetian dollars?” The man smirked. His teeth pearled with the wealth of information he held. Lyvet was the rival country of Glendower, vying for war - becoming a myth among all dishonest folk for the untold riches they possessed. Enough Lyvetian dollars - say, 50,000, and a man could quickly become the prince of the New World that was merging through the tensions between the two warring countries. 

“You have 50,000 Lyvetian dollars on you right now? Is that what you’re saying?” Blue responded incredulously.

“Please,” the man rolled his eyes, “I know where to find it - and with your help, we can split the cost.”

“And how do you know we won’t kill you? Agree to your terms and slit your throat?”

“Because this paper only reveals half the information. I have the other half memorised” he smirked in response, “Information, hapax legomena - recorded only once, so to speak. So I suppose we’re at an impasse.”

“I suppose we are,” grinned Blue in response. 

A dangerous tension chorused through the room of which the man appeared oblivious to as he held out his hand towards Blue, and with a raised eyebrow and a gentlemen's smile, concluded with the words: “The name is Gansey. Now which place should I hold among your crew?”

From where he stood, Adam saw Ronan bare a grin of teeth and disdain. 

Poor Gansey.


	2. Chapter II

To say Ronan had given Gansey a job would be an awfully polite way to describe what occurred next. It was perhaps more apt, Adam thought, to say that Ronan had burdened Gansey with a job, for the job in question was hardly a gift. 

It was something Gansey was quick to realise when presented with a broom and bucket. 

“I’m...cleaning?”

“A swab,” Adam corrected. He turned his head towards the ocean breeze and was struck with the realisation that they should set sail soon; He could sense the tension within the men that Adam had learnt (with time and experience) only truly dissipated once at sea. Above them, he could hear the sound of seagulls circling, and distantly he took the time to think back on how long they’d be at sea for this time. 

“Is that a problem?” Ronan grinned - interrupting Adam of his prior thoughts, and for a quick second, Adam noted how his eyes reflected the gunpowder on his hands.

“No, no. No problem at all!” Gansey smiled appeasingly, “I’ll do it”

“You do know how to clean right?” 

“Of course! I was one of the Glendower palace’s servants!”

Adam felt his brows rise and began to critically eye the golden hemmed clothes Gansey was draped in, not caring much at all if Gansey was observant enough to notice. 

“Treat you well there huh?”

“Well, I hear the royal family is rather kind.”

“Maybe cease any talk of royals whilst on a pirate vessel, aye?” Adam drawled, emphasising the ‘aye’ between a pointed look - reminding Gansey as to just which deck he stood upon.

“Right, of course, aye, will do”. Something about the way the man held himself gave Adam the impression he wasn’t one for fumbling over words, nor one particularly accustomed to taking orders. And yet here he was, Adam thought - playing the fool. Was it a game? A trickery? Adam found himself playing scenarios on repeat in his mind as he and Ronan both left Gansey to stare bewilderingly into a bucket. Was he truly duplicitous, or merely a man looking for a change who had yet to find his ground? 

Adam wasn’t given much opportunity to think much upon the nature of the man, as not a second later did a slam and smash of dubious objects clatter to the ground in one colossal mess. He was almost afraid to look. 

He chose to do the next best thing - he looked at Ronan instead. 

His brows were furled with frustration and lips tilted in a downward path. To an ordinary man, the creases beside his frown would speak of untold violence; of flying fists and bloodied noses. After two years of slowly seeing the man behind said grimace, however, Adam found it difficult not to look past the aggression and cut to the core of a man wholly amused by the events with only a mask to conceal such thoughts. 

“We should get to back to Blue” Adam voiced - interjecting whatever had passed between them as they made eye contact over Gansey’s failings. 

“Right, let’s not leave Maggot waiting”. 

Adam didn’t even bother sending Ronan a reprimanding glance at his casual dismissal of the captain; he knew it had less to do with actual mutiny, and more to do with a level of begrudging respect that the Irish man wasn’t entirely sure how to handle. 

If there was one thing, Adam thought, that he hated about ships, it was the cramped, tight and all-consuming space that encompassed one wherever they walked. It was annoying enough walking individually - when you had to duck under a maze of swinging lanterns, shuffle your way past hammocks and through doors, and all the whilst, avoid stepping on anyone’s toes lest a fight break out. Walking with another person? That alone was an experience best avoided. Let alone that person being one Ronan Lynch. The same Ronan Lynch who much preferred to make the lanterns move out of his way, who stormed past the hammock and loudly made his way through doors. The same Ronan Lynch, who cared little about any stood on toes, let alone the imminent fights that came with the decision. 

So naturally, it came as little surprise to Adam, when half way through their quite frankly short journey to the Captain’s office, Kavinsky, a known fighter among the crew, stood up when Ronan stormed past him, and with one fell swoop, met Ronan’s nose with his knuckles. 

Of fucking course. 

Adam didn’t personally believe that what happened next was worth watching, much preferring to simply ignore the occurrences in front of him in favour of the swinging lanterns flickering in and out of existence. It was odd living on a ship. It had been two years since he had fled his house - house, never home for that truly wasn’t a place that had ever existed, and yet he still found himself stumbling lost amidst himself. He found himself in turn, increasingly envious of the ease both Ronan and Blue appeared to move with. 

Perhaps his father was right. He truly was nothing. 

He scraped his tongue against his teeth as the jeers of men filled his ears, and the sound of knuckles meeting flesh reverberated through the quarters. 

The plan had been to go and find Blue - to ask her whether they could set sail or not: clearly that plan had been derailed. And yet if there was one quick way to draw Blue’s attention, it was without doubt, the ability to watch Ronan make dumb decisions. So when she ducked her way towards to him with a certain level of glee on her face, Adam couldn’t find it within himself to be surprised. 

“We should set sail soon” he greeted. She nodded in response, her eyes drifting to the sight of Kanvinsky conducting a fleeting attempt to sweep Ronan with fail. 

“How long has -?”

Adam shrugged, “Not long”, he cast his gaze back to Ronan - his muscles clenched and eyes wild, “We should plan a route. See what our stowaway knows.” 

Blue hummed, fingering the top of her hat lightly, casting one last glance at the fight before she turned towards the exit. 

“Let’s go get him”. 

Adam watched her go. His head tilted to the side as he went back to watching the fight. The oak beneath Ronan’s feet was bloodied and worn - an apt depiction for how both Ronan and Kanvinsky appeared. Kanvinsky’s eyes were notably bagged, gaunt in a way that elevated the shape of his skull and made him appear more monster than man. Ronan in contrast, sported the stained lip and broken nose as if he were born to it - as if it were as natural to him as it was to wear clothes. 

He supposed it harked back to that all consuming feeling evoked around Ronan Lynch. That feeling of drowning, and drowning, and drowning. The suffocation and chill that travelled through your bones - choked your throat. 

And yet, there was a part of Adam - for some unknown reason - that felt settled around the icy waves of Ronan Lynch. That felt a certain level of calm with the sea salt spray of his sharp tongue and the ship wrecking rocks in his eyes. 

He put two fingers to his mouth. The intent to whistle and stop the fight clear. A loud, high pitched ringing rang through the cabin - jolting the two fighters from their locked embrace and settling a silence across the room. 

“The captain wants you.”

There was a part of Ronan, he could tell, that disdained him ever so slightly for his interruption. It was made abundantly clear when he walked past and blatantly shoulder checked him. His shoulder, bony in nature digging into Adam’s own - yet he knew, for some unknown reason with a high level of confidence, that for all the air he put on, Ronan wasn’t truly annoyed. 

When they made their way to Blue’s cabin, it was easy enough to fade into the background. Easily overshadowed by the brightness of Gansey, the airs of Ronan and the sheer authority of Blue. 

Adam moved toward the bookshelf loitering in the corner of the Cabin. It’s shelves half tilted from both weight and age - the colour stained a dirty gold, and Adam become acutely aware of his own misfortunes. He knew intrinsically that his outward appearance had little to do with any circumstance he found himself in, yet he found himself questioning near subconsciously whether or not his life would have appeared differently had his hair chose not to reflect the dirt he was born from, but rather the gold speaking of knowledge and riches he found himself looking at. 

Near subconsciously, he began to trace the letters riddling the shelves. A’s to B’s to H’s. Long stretches of italics, followed quickly by embossing, to bold letters, to a mishap swirl of upper and lower case. The deck beneath his feet was padded - an abhorrent cream stained rug absentmindedly thrown down to hide the traces of blood staining the oak. As he trailed down the edge of the cabin, he found himself morbidly pondering the blood; whose it was, what they were doing - would it ever be his? 

“And - there we are,” Gansey’s smooth voice stated. He was bent over a map, ink staining his fingertips and Adam was notably caught off guard by the contrast his golden hair created against the shadows dancing on his cheekbones. 

At some point before both he and Ronan had made their way after Blue, it was clear that she had instructed that Gansey document his memory. Half of it, at the very least. Before him sat an enormous amount of chalk, and pencils, and quills dripping with half dried ink. The sway of the ship rolling the equipment this way and that, before ultimately being deterred from rolling off by obstructions. 

Blue leaned over, the multitude of necklaces hanging off her body equally swaying in turn with the motion of the ship. 

“That stretch of sea belongs to Flamborough. You really want me to believe that they’d let 50,000 Lyvetian dollars travel through those waters?” Blue skeptically drawled, her eyebrow raised as she bit into an apple. She was right to be sceptical Adam thought - Flamborough and Lyvet were tenuously allies, Flamborough being largely neutral in the war thanks to also being allies with Glendower. If Lyvet truly were to transport unthinkable sums of cash through their waters, it would be a sign to Glendower that Flamborough sided with Lyvet. 

“Of course”, Gansey quipped. Adam noted how he absentmindedly traced the feathered tip of the quill to his lips, “no one would ever suspect it. There would be no reason for Flamborough to fight Lyvet because to do so would be an act of war”

“You know an awful lot, for a palace cleaner,” Ronan bit.

“You overhear certain things best kept hidden.” 

Gansey went back to smiling at Blue - his eyes near squinted as if she were the sun and he the mere minuscule being below trying with all his might to cast even one glimpse upon her. 

“You want your treasure Captain? This route is how you get it. I’d recommend you cut off the ship around the eastern -“

“I know how to run my ship, thank you,” Blue cut in. Her lips curled in righteous anger and Adam was starkly reminded of the few times someone had tried to overrule Blue and her authority. For some reason, however, Adam couldn’t see Blue spilling the blood of Gansey, nor marooning him. 

“I didn’t mean any-”

Blue stood up - halting the lucid trace of her jewellery in the pale candle light, and straightened her spine.

“You’re dismissed.”

She was angry. Livid, even. As Gansey - with a surprising amount of grace and what even appeared to be remorse, made his retreat from Blue’s quarter’s, Adam could see how her features became darker. How the flickering candle light no longer exhaled warmth but rather twisted her features into a mimicry of what they once were. It was as if someone were to separate him from Blue for over a month and then command that he draw a picture of her but only a faint recollection was left. 

“Who the fuck does he think he is?”

“You think we can trust him?” Ronan asked, his arms crossed as he reclined against the desk Blue herself was previously at. 

“I don’t know,” she huffed, “I don’t know.”

Adam ran a thumb across his lip, the faint sensation of the spines of books making their presence known across his back like a guiding hand. He thought of the queries he had earlier - how Gansey, a man draped in gold with an equally golden tongue, appeared more akin to his presence being matched with those of tragic heroes rather than the supportive role he claimed. He wondered what a man who had gold in his veins would want with 50,000 Lyvetian dollars. 

“I think,” Adam began, “I think in the quest to find and retrieve the Lyvetian dollars, we can rely on him. Perhaps not trust, but we can rely on him. There must be something he is looking to gain that is more than he himself offered us. He came to us, after all.”

“You don’t think the money is his goal?” Ronan gruffed.

“No. If I had to guess, I’d say it was just survival. I don’t know what he wants - but I don’t think it’s that.”

Blue let out a sigh, the shadows around her eyes lightening - her teeth less sharp. 

“Lets just...give it a go. If you think he’ll get us to where we need to go, then he’ll get us to where we need to go.”

The weeks went by slowly after that. The sea was ever constant, stretching miles upon miles with its gentle rocking. A heavy scent of salt and sweat pervaded the air, and as the sun battered down its rays upon the reddened shoulders of men, the comforting sound of bustle could be heard. Adam, well adjusted to the sound after many years aboard, found himself lulled into a trance brought on by the embracing heat and soft sea breeze. The linen on his back sticky with the days work and feet aching as he lowered himself on the worn steps near the helm. 

When Adam had first joined the crew of the Henrietta, he was there for one reason and one reason only. If he were to gather enough riches - enough cuts of linen and cloth and pockets of gold - there would nothing that could hold him back. 

He thought of signing pardons after pardons - scrawling his name and watching as the ink dried just as his old life simultaneously shrivelled up. He thought of his life becoming his own - his bruises his own making and his mind of his own choice. Over the years he had been stashing his share - squirrelling it away in boxes, and socks, and under-boards. Still driven by the thought of independence. Of being a man of his choice rather than consequence. 

It had been difficult to initially win the favour of the men. Comradery was typically found amongst brothels and excessive spending - places where Adam himself found little excitement. But he’d made it work. 

He always made it work. 

And soon, it was easy enough to find his place. To stick on a smile, don’t cause a fuss, stand with the men no matter his personal beliefs, and ultimately - play the long game. He was always playing the long game. Within no time he found himself raising through the ranks - going from stowaway: a glorified cabin boy, to someone worth something. The Boatswain. The mouth of the ship. 

It was an odd position, Adam had to admit. For years he spent his life actively trying to avoid drawing any unnecessary attention - actively being the voice of nobody. He’d always found himself more akin to the Odysseus at arms with Polyphemus rather than the fabled hero on his journey home to Ithaca. 

There had been a time when Adam could only think of fear when his father’s name was hushed along the cobbled streets he lived in. Now, all that lingered alongside the name was a grim satisfaction. A toothy smile of freedom and ‘finally, finally, finally’ as he recalled his father’s passed out body. 

“Three times I poured some out and gave it to him, and, like a fool, he swilled it down,” cried the voice of Nobody. And, thus three times did Adam pour out the drink. He became the character of Nobody. Became the figure used to hide any form of rebellion - became the caricature of the beloved hero. 

Unlike Nobody, however, he wasn’t enough of a fool to leave anything behind. Anything that would be his undoing. And with the drinks thrice poured, the night sky grim and blackened - Nobody disappeared. 

He disappeared. 

This ship had become his Genesis. His fingertips as worn and loved as the oak beneath his feet. His mind as new as the white sails they faced. 

They had a plan now. A goal to achieve. Each wave they crossed was a step closer. Somewhere across that ocean sat a ship - a Man O'War, 50 guns to its broadside and 50,000 Lyvetian dollars in its hull. Blue had a plan, Adam recalled - running a hand absently through the hair that made its way to his face. It wasn’t a bad plan, per say: chase down the York,Rumoured to carry a great treasure of Lyvet. 50,000 dollars of treasure. Adam wasn’t entirely sure whether or not it held what they wanted, but with each passing day, and the certainty Blue held both herself and the plan with - it was easy to fall to that pretence. 

To see an end to this whole ordeal with one last battle. 

Adam looked up and leaned forward, a tension in his shoulders forming thanks to the position, and he felt the sun's hot flares once again hit the previously hidden planes of his back. In his peripheral vision, he caught sight of Gansey looking up at the rigging, the sunlight etched into his cheekbones and the soft sea breeze caressing his hair. He had looked so out of place before: fumbling with buckets, glancing at people from the corner of his eyes and plastering a mask of a smile at anyone and everyone who took the chance to look in his direction. He looked almost like he fit now, Adam remarked. 

It had been weeks since he had first joined. He no longer sat alone in the gallery for meals, no longer scrubbed the deck in silence, and he found perhaps even companionship in the shanties he now joined in at. 

Most remarkably of all, he had found an in with Blue. 

Adam remembered the first time he had stepped into Blue’s cabin - expecting the place to be empty, but rather instead found the two sitting across the desk from one another reading books. A comfortable silence weighing over the cabin like a blanket, and the numerous candles lit akin to a hearth. For the first time, it seemed as if Blue had found a home among the long stretches of sea. 

Adam knew she missed her home - she had only taken to the sea to find her own place. He recalled the story she had told one night, when all could be heard was the pounding of rain and the roar of the sea. The story of how her mother, aunts, cousins were all formidable in their own rights - becoming spokespersons, influencers and leaders amid the male authority the world dictated. The story of how she wanted to be like them - but not a product of them. The story of how she wanted to find her own path. 

The story of how she wanted to find her own worth. 

And yet amid it all, it was clear to those close that she missed home. If one was to open the draws in her desk, you’d find portraits, letters and all manner of sentimental keepsakes scattered around with an organised chaos. 

It seemed as if Gansey had parted through that chaos. Taking her whole heartedly in his stride and the companionship between the two morphing into another one of her keepsakes - locked up by a key and revealed only in the soft light of her cabin. 

He supposed it would be a shame if Gansey were to die.

Adam stood up - brushing down his clothes in a futile attempt to rid himself the the dust coating his trousers like a second layer. With that thought in mind, h walked over to where Gansey stood, throwing his sword down at his feet. 

“Mr. Palo. Your sword, if you please.” Adam called, the man in question to his left, looking for all intents and purposes like he was contemplating jumping into the sea itself in order to escape the unbearable heat. Gansey frowned quizzatively at Adam, his eyes glancing to Ronan’s from where he perched in the hopes he had the answer. 

“It’s about time we taught Mr. Gansey here how to fight”. 

“You’re going to teach me?” Gansey replied with shock. 

“Oh no, Mr. Gansey, our loving first mate gets that job”. 

Ronan emerged from behind him with a shark-like grin on his face. He rose his eyebrows in greeting to Adam before kicking the sword on the floor into his right hand to pass it to Gansey. Adam rolled his eyes at the display. He sat back, leaning against the main mast and watched as the two parried back and forth - some motions blocked more successfully than others. Gansey clumsily swung his sword in the direction of Ronan’s ribs - Ronan blocked and parried, Gansey responding by blocking with fumbling limbs, and back and forth this went. Gansey, it seemed, had an innate fear of hurting Ronan. A terror that guided his actions and painted the sword in Ronan’s makeshift blood. On and on this went until decisively, Ronan decided not to block - letting Gansey’s sword lightly slice his arm. 

“Oh shit!” Gansey dropped his sword, the metal clattering to the ground, “Are you okay? I didn’t -“

“Do it again.” Ronan huffed, staring intensely at Gansey. 

“Wh-what?” 

“Do it again.”

And so he did. The two blocked and swung, slashing in all manner of directions. Their swords glinting in the sun- casting a blinding light and the clash of metal ringing across the deck soon became nearly lulling in it’s consistency. 

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Adam caught sight of two flickering flags. They stretched taut against the wind, travelling at around 4 knots in the opposite direction. It was the York - unmistakable with its flag, accompanied with another ship. 

“Sails!” He roared. 

The tranquil mirage previously found across the deck was now cut into with a flood of excitement that wavered throughout the men as they began to run this way and that to their stations. The sound of light conversation transformed to the thundering of boots, and somehow, even the roar of the sea sounded louder to Adam’s ears. 

Blue emerged from deck below - mouth set in a grin as she called for a glass to scope the ship. 

“What’s your order Captain?” he called - eyes meeting hers.

“Reel it in!” she cried. 

The next few hours were flashes of silver; gunners clothed in gunpowder, the battering of cannonballs slamming into deck after deck. The handle of Adam’s sword sturdy in his hand - Ronan’s back to his, secure in the knowledge of partnership. 

With a cry, Ronan slashed an approaching soldier - his shirt now a darkened red and the golden uniform buttons now dancing along the deck in tandem with the repetitive dance Adam found himself in. 

The sea gave a cry - the boat a creak, and the gangplank a roar. 

It was at times like this, Adam knew he had made the right choice. He knew his place here - he had made his place here. When Adam thought of freedom now, it was no longer in the form of a pardon, no longer in still hidden sashes, no longer in the making of civilisation. It was in the reclamation of his name in a battle cry, the new found autonomy of his voice, and the golden light reflected as the sun met the sea rather than silver in the light of glass chandeliers and the fragility of silk. 

He imagined telling this to his younger self and let out a hysterical laugh as the sound of his pistol ricocheted in his ear. 

“The are fuck you on, Parrish?” Ronan cut in.

Adam didn’t bother responding. Uniform after uniform crossed the gangplank, their red coats merging into one enmassed wave. 

Bullets flew, swords slashed and blood poured. He wanted to be on the other side of the deck - Blue, was on the other side. Her own gun firing, her own sword stabbing. 

So that’s what he did. 

He slashed, and stabbed, and hit, and roared. Ronan, a steady companion, remained at his side all the while. In no time they had made their destination. Their own shirts dripping with blood - merging in with the red coated men they fought. The sea rolled beneath their feet - the ships swaying in unison their sails intertwined with the force of the fight. 

If there had ever been a time Adam was uncertain as to what he gained from his presence on a pirate ship, it would easily be countered with this, Adam thought. The feeling of companionship - the coursing feeling of victory. His father had taught him one thing and one thing only - how to be a monster. And if Adam couldn’t escape that, then he’d damn well quell the beast on his own terms. 

There, in the corner of his eyes, stood Gansey. His back against the helm, eyes wide and a trembling sword in one hand. Adam had to give him credit - he was standing his ground. The lessons Ronan had previously given him shone through as he parried the swing of a soldier to his left. 

Adam noted how amid it all, Blue directed his attention to her - holding her hand up to show two fingers before pointing to both him and Ronan. They were to split up - take one ship each with a group of people. Adam grabbed Gansey, gave out a whistle and five others joined - making their way as one to the furthest ship - the York itself-before Ronan could race there. 

“I’ve never done this before - Wait!” Gansey halted.

“You’ll learn,” Adam cut, pushing Gansey forward with only an ounce of guilt. 

They made their way to the edge of the Henrietta before diving into the cold embrace of the sea. Once submerged, Adam could see the erratic flashes of yellows and reds - the waves lighting up a cacophony of canonfire. As one, they swam to the York, reached a hand out to grasp the ships edges, and climbed up the gun deck. 

The deck however, was empty.

Too empty. 

The floorboards creaked under Adam’s heel, the stairs stained and bent from constant tread and the heavy scent of copper pervaded the room. Copper, Adam thought, and smoke. Smoke. Why would there be smoke? With his finger on the trigger and his eyes having met his men’s for confirmation, Adam crept forward. The barrel of the pistol rested on the solid oak door between them, the captains cabin, and whatever was burning. 

The door creaked open. 

A body was slumped over the desk, and death penetrated the room. In the oak worn desk read a multitude of scrawled words - ‘abandon all hope’ again and again and again. The dead man’s fingertips wrecked with effort - his wrists chained down to the chair he sat on. 

“He’s been left for slaughter” one of the men whispered, “but why?”.

Adam crept around the desk and found the source of the burning. In a little pot were six letters, curling up and browning beyond recognisable. Perhaps like a fool, but with the determination to see this job through, Adam reached into the fire - the flames licking his fingers with a hiss, and grabbed the letters. 

“Adam look, the captain's log. Might tell us something eh?” said Mr. Palo, his hair covering his eyes and the wicked scar carved into his cheek from years ago. Adam grabbed it, the binding thick and dull, and compiled it with the half decayed letters. His fingers were bloodied and aching. 

“We should get back. Show the Captain what we’ve got.” Adam commanded. 

Outside, Adam could hear the dull roar of the battle came to a conclusion - Ronan’s forces having overtaken the second ship, halting any opposing force on the Henrietta herself. Two by two the men left the York, Gansey pausing to glance at Adam. 

“You should get your hand looked at.”

“Go; Mr. Palo will take you.”

And with a definitive sigh, Adam closed the cabin door. The splintered edge of the door reminiscent of the carved, bloody words on the desk. 

Abandon all hope, abandon all hope, abandon all hope. 

Once inside Blue’s quarters, Adam presented what he had. The fight had been long over by the time they had made their way from the York - Ronan’s eyebrow bloody and Blue’s nose crusted with the memory of blood. His fingertips aching. 

“What the fuck are these?” Blue questioned. She turned the papers this way and that - the faint candlelight reflecting from the inks trace on the pages. 

“I was hoping you’d know.”

“They’re illegible” Ronan interjected, snapping up the papers from Blue to look at them. His eyebrows were creased in the middle, and Adam wondered for a moment what it was like to be in the mind of one Ronan Lynch. “Even if the papers weren’t half burnt, what you can read looks to be in a different language.”

“Lyvetian?” 

“No,” came a voice from behind Adam. He spun around, hand on the hilt of his sword and, sighed a breath of simultaneous relief and exasperation as Gansey came into sight. Gansey followed his eyes to Adam’s hand. His burnt fingers. 

“And what do you think it is?” Ronan scowled. 

“Not Lyvetian that’s for sure.” Gansey smiled, “If I were to bet, I’d say it would be the language of one of their allies - Malorillian perhaps?”

“Learnt that as a cleaner, did you?”

Gansey smiled again. 

Behind her desk, Adam could see Blue roll her eyes, sighing as she blew a stray piece of hair away. “Malorillian you think? Guess it’s a bloody good thing Malory is only a day or two’s travel away. We can probably find a translator there.”

“Hang on. Last time we made shore, some random stranger walked onboard - you want to go back?” Ronan argued, his tone twinged with more confusion rather than anger - noteable to only those who made the conscious choice to study it. Adam wasn’t sure he wanted to think of why he himself knew the difference. He began to leave, turning his back on the cabin and the repetitive back and forth of Blue and Ronan.

The hallway was dark and narrow, and as the ship swayed this way and that, Adam found himself tracing the oak panels beside him for support. The lanterns above moved in tandem - shifting whatever faint light could be found in an unrecognisable sequence. Adam felt a hand wrap around his wrist and paused in his trek.

It was Ronan.

As Adam turned to look at him, his pale features lit up with the flickering candlelight - cheekbones as sharp as the sword he carried by his side. He was struck once again with that feeling of drowning, drowning, drowning that came once one was beside Ronan Lynch. 

Ronan studiously looked at his hand - commanding Adam voicelessly to unfurl it, and Adam wondered what was running through Ronan’s mind. His eyebrows were drawn together, lips pursed into a thin line, and all that could heard between the two, was the sound of their breath intermingling with the closeness they held one another at. 

He felt like he was being strangled. His breath stolen from him. 

He kept his eyes on Ronan’s, and felt more than saw a cold object placed into his hand, closing over it subconsciously. Adam suddenly was hyper aware of the silence that coated the two, encompassing the narrow corridor and snuffing any darkness which covertly avoided the gaze of the pale lantern. 

Ronan turned to leave. As silently as he had come, he was gone, and in Adam’s hand sat the only evidence of proof that the moment had even occurred at all. 

A small circular container - ‘manibus’ carved messily into the top. Hand cream. 

His fingers began to ache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is super long, but oh well. Also, all the place names are linked with the history surrounding Glendower, so kudos if you can pick any apart from the mess I made of the original words.


	3. Chapter III

The port of Malory was everything Glendower was not. It was dull - coated in dust from building to building, the water murky and grey, and high raised towers of smoke and ash completed the city. In the docks sat a uniformed line of five ships - their sails blanketed with coal remnants and all that could be heard from miles on end was the claustrophobic sound of what seemed to be the entire population gathered at the docks, going loudly about their daily business. 

“We’re not here for long!” Blue shouted to the crew - desperately trying to heard over the noise of the docks, “only a day or two, so get what you need and don’t be late!”.

Behind Adam, Noah turned his head side to side - looking at everything all at once like a newborn baby who’d never seen the world before. 

“Adam, take Gansey and Noah - I want you to find whatever supplies you can find in this...” she paused, scanning the docks with a critical eye, “... Place. Ronan and I will go and find a translator for whatever this is,” she said, waving the half burnt papers absentmindedly. 

“Wait. I knew it was Mallorillian, surely I should go with you?” Gansey questioned, somehow looking regal all the whilst waving a hand back and forth between both Blue, the papers and Ronan all at once. 

“Last time you were on a dock, you snuck onto a random ship and became an annoyance to the crew,” Blue quipped with a smirk, “Can’t let that happen again.” 

And with that she walked off, Ronan following close behind, his large coat swinging behind him dramatically and definitively - leaving Adam with a ghost, a liar, and a dust-coated city. The same dust-coated city he now had to navigate without any comprehension of which way was what. So naturally, he picked a random direction, and began to walk. 

The brick layered alleyways were as grey as the city, a scent of decay and old food travelling with the wind, rushing past their ears. Even Noah, it seemed, contemplated leaving the whole ordeal behind and going back to the ship. However, as chance would have it, no one got that option, as a second after entering the death ridden alleyway, a large weight found its way to the back of Adam’s head. A ringing cast through his mind, in between his ears, and he could faintly hear the distant screaming of Gansey. Noah’s face briefly registered in his mind, looking vastly worried as both him and Adam himself, simultaneously it seemed, flickered in and out of existence. 

Good, Adam thought, the ringing in his ears getting louder and louder - the darkness in his vision consuming all manner of sight - he’ll find Blue and Ronan. 

When he awoke, Adam didn’t know where they were. He didn’t know what was going on. 

He didn’t like not knowing what was going on. 

His eyes were blindfolded - that much he knew - his lips parched and cracked. His left ear was still ringing, and Adam frowned tightly, listening desperately for any sound of rustling to indicate Gansey was there. That Gansey was alive. All he could make out was the sound of a dip dip dipping of a tap somewhere behind him. His hands were bound, rope tightly digging into his wrists and as he tugged at them, the clunky chair he was tied to swayed dangerously. 

“Gan-Gansey…?” He whispered. His voice cracked and as dry as his throat.

“Adam!” came the hissed reply. Adam let out a faint sigh of relief - that was one problem solved at least. Gansey was alive. 

The ringing in his ear still nauseating. 

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. One second we were walking and the next, these three men came and knocked you out… put a cloth to my mouth... Next thing I know, we woke up here.”

“Okay...”

“I’m sorry...”

“You have nothing to be sorry for”. Adam tugged again at the ropes. A silence was making itself known, elevating the drip drip dripping of the tap. He felt disorientated - the darkness of the blindfold, and the ringing ringing ringing in his ear getting louder and louder, breaking through the silence in a way only he was aware of. The rest of the world it seemed, was quiet. 

“How are we going to get out?” Gansey broke - cutting through the inner thoughts racing across Adam’s mind. The insanity he had begun to enter. 

“Noah should have gone and told Blue...”

“And if not?”

“Then I’ll work something out.”

A door slammed somewhere across the room, and Adam could hear the pounding of heavy footsteps. The tap behind his ear got louder, the rope heavier and the chair more precariously balanced. He could take a hit, he knew that - but could Gansey?

“What do you want with us?” Gansey questioned, his voice hushed and cautious. Adam stayed silent. 

“Us?” A gruff voice responded, violent sounding in nature and as weighted as the prior footsteps, “Only you. Only you - Prince Richard.”

Prince? 

Adam had always known there was something about Gansey - his mind raced back to his original concerns.

How Gansey had been a man with gold in his veins but apparently, an equally silver tongue. 

“There’s a ransom on your head you see. The King and Queen seem mighty fond of bringing you back.” The man continued, chuckling to himself in the dark, “ Never said you had to be alive.”

“I’m no prince. I’m a ship cleaner. A pirate!” Gansey argued, his voice, whilst outwardly calm had begun to take on a hysterical undertone of a man who wished to deny the truth laid before him because it simply wasn’t to his liking. It was the tone of a man, Adam thought, who was used to mere things such knowledge and facts changing before his very eyes at the very snap of a finger. 

“You’re no pirate, Highness.” 

“I’m a good pirate!” Argued Gansey - sounding oddly put off by the rebuttal, “A brilliant one even!” If Adam could, he’d have rolled his eyes. 

“Mediocre, at best,” interjected Blue’s voice from what seemed to be behind the large man. A thack could be heard, and Adam imagined Blue swinging at the man - her five-foot-nothing self trying with all her might to knock out a man twice her size, and against all odds succeeding. Adam wasn’t sure he’d ever been more glad to hear Blue’s voice. He felt cold hands slide off the blindfold around his eyes, and was greeted with the sight of Noah looking wholeheartedly apologetic before him. Adam smiled. 

The loud thundering of footsteps could be heard, half a dozen men entered the room - pistols held high and beside him, Adam could hear Noah squeak and whisper faintly under his breath, “Time to go”. 

Adam wasn’t entirely sure what Noah had to be worried about. 

Said captors twisted in response to Blue, spreading throughout the room, and Adam once again struggled uselessly in his bounds. The one to the left of Adam raised his gun, his finger notably twitching on the trigger. Without much forethought - as was often the way around those he kept the company of - Adam slammed his head onto the hand - displacing the gun, before wrapping his teeth around the gunman’s wrist. 

With one swift grunt, Adam bit down harder - his teeth gripped like iron around the now frantically shaking wrist. The gun man let out a scream - undoubtedly animalistic in nature and for a quick second, the world around them blurred as the only sensation Adam was acutely aware of was the blood wrapped around his throat. The blood wrapped around his throat, and the ringing ringing ringing in his head - a choir of furies, piercing and screeching. 

And then the screaming stopped.

Adam released his grip as the gunman slumped forward, his body slacking and bending towards the ground with a crash. He wasn’t sure what had happened until his eyes travelled upwards and saw the unmistakable form of Ronan Lynch. 

The unmistakable form of Ronan Lynch and a bat. 

Adam felt the world come into focus - Ronan’s eyes smirking down upon him as he made his way to the ropes tightly bond around Adam’s wrists. 

“Comfortable?”

“Oh fuck off”, Adam rolled his eyes, “What’s with the bat?”

“I call her Chainsaw.”

“The fuck is that?”

“I liked chain. I liked saw.” Ronan stated, offering no explanation. He moved to untie the ropes around Adam’s wrists, his pale fingers brushing against Adam’s own - taking Adam starkly back to that moment in the ships corridor. 

“Did you find a translator?”

“You want to talk about that now?” Ronan gruffed, meeting Adam’s eyes with an incredulous look.

“Did you find a translator?” He repeated. His ear no longer ringing but fading into silence rather than awareness.

“No.”

He couldn’t hear out of his left ear. Ronan’s words muffled, and Adam couldn’t hear, couldn’t hear, couldn’t hear. 

“Let’s get back to the ship”. Ronan took his hand and guided him back to awareness as he begun to help him up. 

He couldn’t hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this might be one of the shortest chapters? Once again, please go go out my beta readers and artist! Dee recently did an incredible piece of art for this fic, which you can find here: https://deethedraws.tumblr.com/post/184424801039/my-piece-for-ravencyclebigbang-it-was-so-much !


	4. Chapter IV

“Why did you do it?” Adam heard Blue ask Gansey, her voice oddly hesitant in a way that was unbecoming of the woman he knew to be his captain - of the woman he had seen slay enemies and mutineers. The conversation an easy distraction.

“Run away?”

Blue nodded - the candle light flickering in response to the raging wind bellowing outside. Adam noted how Gansey subconsciously ran a hand through his hair as if preparing himself for some formal event.

“Do you ever feel like your life is one of waiting?” It was an odd question to ask. One Adam wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to. “Because I do. When I lived in Glendower - when I was nothing but a prince, that’s the type of life I lived.” Gansey sighed, his voice heavy and still.

“Every morning I would wake up, I would pace through my daily duties, I would eat lunch, I would continue said duties - listen to lords and ladies and commoners alike - then I’d eat dinner, go to bed and so on and so on and so on.” He continued to breathe, the flickering lanterns moving with him. “My life had no change. I knew what would happen everyday at every-time, at every place... and I found myself caught in a trance of waiting. Waiting for a reprieve. Waiting for lunch. Waiting for dinner. Waiting for sleep. Just - waiting.”

He shrugged, finally, and the darkness in the cabin elevated the tightness in his shoulders - the bags under his eyes. “I didn’t want to wait my life away.”

“So that’s why you left?” Adam questioned, his voice ringing with finality in so much that he knew the answer to the question he had just posed.

“So that’s why I left.”

A silence weighed upon the group and Adam felt sick. The rain outside pounded on the window, inviting a chill to the cabin that drifted between them all.

“What now?” Ronan asked, cutting through the roaring rain. The flames of the candles drifted in his direction as if as equally compelled to him as Adam himself had begun to feel in the passing days.

Blue sighed, running a hand through her hair and placing her hat gently down on the desk she leant on. “We’ve still got a day here. There’s still time to find a translator.”

“We’re still doing that? With him?” Ronan waved a hand in the general direction of Gansey. He seemed tired. They all seemed tired. Ronan’s eyes looked gaunt, his grey eyes no longer spoke of sharp rocky cliffs, but rather morphed into a reflection of the dull waves surrounding the docks of Mallory, they spoke of a great fog - heavy and thick. His fingers now skeletal - lips a pale, cracked line.

Adam couldn’t hear. His fingers ached.

“We know he’s a prince. So what? Deal doesn’t change.”

Ronan hesitated, but nodded and walked out, a bitter chill entering the room as he opened the door and let out any semblance of warmth that might have once been present. The oaken panels darker in the snuffed out light, and the scent of smoke travelled across the room reminding Adam of a ghostly apparition - a pale hand crawling its way to the ceiling.

“Don’t worry about Ronan. He’s just angry. He’ll get over it.” Blue reassured.

He wasn’t angry, Adam thought.

He turned to leave himself - abandoning Blue and Gansey to the overwhelming sound of rain. What was left of the candles flickered erratically, and the narrow corridor outside Blue’s quater’s somehow seemed even smaller. He went to find Ronan.

He couldn’t hear.

Ronan was sat on a hammock. One foot dangled outside, gently holding himself steady against the rocking of the waves. The lighting was low - a faint golden tinge touched his skin and for a brief moment, Adam was struck with the fancy that perhaps somewhere, somehow, it was Ronan who was the prince.

Adam went to sit next to him. His stomach lurching in a similar manner to the hammock as it swung to accumulate his weight. The ship swayed and with it, the flickering lights guarding the row upon row of hammocks. He felt his thigh burn with the sudden closeness of Ronan and whilst Adam would never be one to claim a love-centric life, in that moment, he thought he finally understood content.

“He’s a prince.” Ronan spoke softly, face wiped devoid of any emotion, “I left to leave behind the commands of royalty,” Adam’s thigh burned and burned and burned. His fingers ached.

Without much modicum of thought, Adam felt his hand shift in the dark to rest upon Ronan’s thigh - unthinkingly, hidden in the darkness - and urged on with the rush of discovery: their fingers curled together. He kept his eyes straight ahead - to look Ronan in the eyes would be to lose himself, to make significance of the moment. This event, this time - no. This was just for him. A moment hapax legomena. Spoken of only once.

Never to be recorded again.

The next morning they left the ship again, Ronan a steady constant beside Adam - near guarding his left side in a way that both emboldened and frustrated him. They were to leave and find a translator - travelling as one this time rather than separately. Adam wasn’t particularly sure that would make a difference if they were to, once again, be struck from behind with an attack. But nonetheless, he embraced the company.

That being said, the day had become rather futile. They danced between sellers and hustlers, pushed this way and that. It evoked a number of growls from Ronan, and a multitude of silent shoves from Adam with a glare to match.

He could see the moment Blue began to give up. Her head lulled to the side in thought and a frustrated glance in her eyes, as she tapped her finger contemplatively on her lips. Her anger was only shadowed by the cover of her hat.

“Should we turn back?” Noah questioned from where he floated, staring at whatever inanimate object caught his eye - turning his head this way and that to stare at the reflective bauble.

“We can find a translator somewhere else” Gansey placated. Out of the corner of his eye, Adam saw Ronan pay for Noah’s fixation, a blank facade over his face at the action as Noah glanced up at him with revere.

Blue huffed, crossing her arms and pulling down her hat as she turned back to the ship without a word. At least Noah was happy - clutching his bauble tightly between both hands and frowning with concentration so as to not turn intangible and break it.

So naturally, once they entered Blue’s cabin, the world just had to turn things from bad to worse.

“Hello!” Cheerfully smiled the figure sitting in Blue’s chair - draped in linen as if they wore what they believed a pirate should wear after never have seen one before. “Name’s Henry, I’m the knight that’s been tasked to chase down Prince Richard -”

“Gansey, if you please,” Gansey interjected, tone shocked and face pale.

“Of course!” he said, waving the thought aside. Something unsaid lingered in the air until he finally admitted, “However, I thought being a pirate sounded much more fun!” Noah dropped his bauble, shattering it to a thousand pieces and looked at it in dismay. And as had become habit, Blue let out a scream - punching the man at her desk and watched as he slumped over.

“Not another one...” he heard Ronan whisper under his breath from beside him.

Adam rolled his eyes and turned to leave. Not his problem.

[](https://ibb.co/84Vc7qD)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nevermind, I think THIS might be the shortest chapter but, oh well. This marks the end - I hope you've enjoyed it! Also, please check out the amazing art done by @deethedraws.tumblr (as seen above!) - you can find it here to reblog: https://deethedraws.tumblr.com/post/184424801039/my-piece-for-ravencyclebigbang-it-was-so-much

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Raven Cycle Big Bang event, in which, I was lucky enough to work with two amazing beta readers (Yessie via @Yesterdarling.tumblr.com / Ruby via @cactusbaseball.tumblr.com) and a stunning artist (Dee via @deethedraws.tumblr.com) ! Please go check them out, they're super kind and massive big shout out as well to all those who arranged this event !! 
> 
> If anyone got this far, this was my first major fanfic, so please tell me what you thought either in the comments or through screaming at me on tumblr (katabasiss.tumblr.com). Have a lit day and a save St Mark's Eve!


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